


Vagrancy

by TheClassics4



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Multi, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheClassics4/pseuds/TheClassics4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bailey’s successful business is disrupted when Mr. Gold reports him for selling drugs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vagrancy

**Author's Note:**

> An anon wanted Bae, having been in Storybrooke the entire time, is living in the bad part of town and is a drug addict thanks to the curse. Gold has to face what he’s done to his son and make his relationship with Belle work.

She was late. She was never late. Isabella French was his best client and had been for the last…God, he couldn’t even remember how long he’d been dealing to her. Their meeting place had always been the same, always behind Mr. Gold’s pawnshop. Their meeting time never changed either. So why had she not shown up?

Bailey looked at his watch. It was almost twenty minutes past the agreed time. Shaking his head, he headed for the street. If she’d finally decided to get clean, then he sure as hell wasn’t going to wait for her to rat him out to the sheriff.

It was a damn shame—for him at least. Isabella gave him a large chunk of his monthly income. He’d never met someone more strung out than her, and if she wasn’t careful, one day she was going to overdose. But that was really not his problem.

Had he heard the little jingle of the bell in time, he would have stopped before stepping onto the sidewalk, but of course, he did not. He stepped around the corner coming face to face with Mr. Gold.

“Something I can help you with?” he asked, turning to lock the door so slowly, it was unnerving.

“Uh, no sir. Just takin’ a smoke.”

“Aren’t you a bit young to be smoking? Are you even seventeen yet, boy?”

Bailey shoved his hands into his pockets, fisting them around the small bag of the white powder. Behind Mr. Gold, he could see Isabella running up the sidewalk. Just from here, he could tell she was in terrible shape and he cursed silently, knowing it was inevitable for Mr. Gold to see them. “Not yet…But you know, a kid’s gotta have a rebellious phase.”

“I see.” Mr. Gold eyed him as he slowly slipped his key back into his pocket, turning to look just as Isabella slowed to a halt behind him. “Ms. French, in a hurry to get somewhere?”

“Uh,” she was panting and holding her side, “Not really.” The damn girl was a terrible liar and Bailey almost spoke to her defense, but she just kept rambling, “Just out for a run.”

Mr. Gold eyed her ragged jeans and backpack skeptically, “Ms. French, I don’t like being lied to.”

Swallowing, Isabella shook her head, “I’m not lying.”

“Hm,” he eyed her again, this time looking more than at her clothing. He was a creepy bastard. She definitely looked unwell, he was more than twice her age, her clothing overly modest. And yet he still seemed to be picturing her naked. No doubt he’d go home and get himself off with that image.

“If you two will excuse me,” Mr. Gold said, finally looking away from her.

Isabella took a step back, her head bowed. Once he was gone, Bailey took a step toward her. “Wanna tell me why you’re so late?”

“Sorry, it was my dad,” she said, digging through her pockets as if she were ready to do the exchange right out in the open. Bailey had to grab her by the arm and drag her back into the cover of darkness.

Finally, with the cash in hand, he handed over the small bundle to her. Her hands were shaking as she took it from him and it wasn’t until then did he realize just how awful she looked. The dark circles under her eyes were even more pronounced, her lips were dry and cracking, and when she pushed up the sleeves on her sweater, her arms looked nothing more than bones.

It really wasn’t his place to say anything, but something made him speak. “Look, maybe you should keep the money and buy some food. Get a room for the night and sleep,” he said, to which she just shook her head.

“I need this,” Isabella pocketed the bundle and hurried past him.

Bailey looked after her, shaking his head. He didn’t care what she did.

The walk to Granny’s was short from where he was. It would be nice tonight to finally have a bed to sleep in again. Ruby took his money without a second look and within seconds he was in the warm room, burrowing into the soft bed. After so many nights spent sleeping under the toll bridge, he fell asleep instantly.

His dreams were in flashes. He was a child a moment, fighting with his father—a figure not even remembered enough to have a face in his subconscious—the next moment, he was with Isabella again, she was crying and asking him things he couldn’t hear. Mr. Gold came next, just the simple image of him limping down the street.

A pounding sound suddenly overcame everything and Bailey started awake. It was still dark out and he yelled angrily at the knocker, telling them to go away. But the voice that called back to him shattered any kind of peace he had.

The sheriff.

“Uh, just—just a second,” Bailey jumped off the bed, scrambling to get his backpack open. There was still so much of it in his bag and he couldn’t be caught with it again.

“Bailey, I’m coming in now,” the sheriff announced and there was already the sound of the key being inserted. He dropped the bag on the floor, slumping against the side of the bed. It was too late to do anything now.

Sheriff Graham entered, Granny and Ruby behind him. Immediately his eyes went to the bag on the ground and the little scattered bundles surrounding it.

“Bailey, you’re going to have to come with me,” he said, taking his handcuffs from his belt. Bailey let Graham pull him to his feet and cuff his hands together. A small crowd had gathered outside at the sight of the squad car’s lights, but when they saw it was only Bailey being busted for drugs again, they started to disperse.

“I thought we’d moved past this, Bailey,” Graham said once they were driving. “I thought you said you were done dealing.”

“Yeah, well, I have to make a living somehow. How’d you find out, anyway?” Bailey asked. There were supposed to be rules against this stuff, he knew, but technicalities never seemed to bother Graham. When there was crime, he was always there to snuff it out. It was lucky he was the only police officer in the town or Bailey would have been caught long ago.

“Got a tip.”

“From?” He had a suspicion about who it could have been and when Graham answered, ‘Mr. Gold’, Bailey nodded.

“You know he’s not the perfect upstanding citizen either…” Bailey muttered.

“He may not make the most honest of deals, but they’re always legal.” Graham pulled the car up to the station and when he opened the door, he saw a familiar figure standing at the police station door. Mr. Gold watched as Graham brought him forward.

“How is she?” The sheriff asked as they came closer.

“Still upset,” Mr. Gold said without looking away from Bailey.

“Mm, I thought that might be the case.”

Mr. Gold stepped aside to let the two of them in. As soon as the door opened, their ears were met with angry yelling.

The room was filled with people: the florist, the doctor, a few nuns, a tall man Bailey had only ever seen at Mr. Gold’s shop, even the damned newspaper editor was scribbling down the scene in the corner. But it was Isabella standing in the middle of them who was screaming. Her father had hold of her arms and she fought against him with what little strength she could muster. Mr. Gold stood by watching in the door.

Graham locked Bailey in the cell, not bothering with the technical side when such an episode was going on around them.

“No!” Isabella was screaming, “Please, I need it! I don’t want to go! You can’t make me!” she struggled against her father’s grip, but in vain.

“Ms. French,” Graham slowly slipped to the middle of the crowd. Isabella looked to him, tears streaming down her face, “You can either get the help you need or you can go with Bailey.”

“Go with me where?” Bailey cut off Isabella’s response with his own urgent outburst.

“Not now,” Graham shushed him, but Bailey refused to be silenced.

“Where the hell are you sending me?”

Sighing, Graham stepped back to the cell and spoke to him quietly, “This is your third strike, we’re sending you to Boston to be booked in the prison.”

“What?!”

“No! I don’t want to go to Boston! I don’t want to go to prison.” Isabella cried out, finally going limp. “I’ll go with you.”

“Good choice, my dear,” Mr. Gold finally spoke, stepping forward. “The hospital’s rehab program is a good one.”

Isabella sniffed and her father passed her to the tall man’s awaiting grip. He brought her over to Mr. Gold, who spoke to her quietly until the phone rang out, causing the room to fall silent.

As he walked to answer it, Graham spoke to the room, “I think it’d be best if everyone left,” he said, but no one moved. He sighed as he picked up the receiver and was silent for a moment. “Yes… Of course, Regina. I’ll be right over.”

As soon as he’d hung up, the newspaper man perked up, “What was it?”

Graham shook his head as he started zipping up his jacket, “The mayor’s son has gone missing.”

“Wait,” Mr. Gold stopped the sheriff before he could leave, “What of him?” He nodded at Bailey.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Gold. He’ll be picked up first thing in the morning. I’ve already arranged for his pick up. There’s really nothing else for you here now, take Isabella down to the hospital and it’ll be taken care of.”

“Good,” Mr. Gold said, carefully looping Isabella’s arm through his. All the while, his eyes never left Bailey, “I’ll be glad to be rid of such an unwanted nuisance.”


End file.
